


Phantom

by asvlm



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: F/M, This is terrible, Vampire AU, facial deformity, ok i redid the first champter, this is not my level of writing these days, this was some of my first shit, vampire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-30 04:56:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13943058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asvlm/pseuds/asvlm
Summary: Upon meeting a man who has an air around him, and a mask hiding his face, 'Jane' will face problems she never had an intention of finding answers to.





	Phantom

**Author's Note:**

> Don't subject yourself to this

Tom’s POV

The words that were said to me were nearly something that caught me off guard. My eyes moved up from the crystal, the dark liquid having stained the glass years ago. 

"Hello," the copper, curly haired woman said, and as short as she was, it took her a second to get onto the tall stool. Many people, in the normal world, would call her pixie-like, yet it was clear to me that she wasn't. Pixies were assholes, and much slimmer. They were much more similar to models in this day and age. I also knew that I had to be careful what I said to her, being a witch as she was. Yet, my eyes skipped over her body for a moment, taking in the dark, long sleeved shirt, a scarf barely holding onto her hair, and black pants that were perfect on her body. I didn't allow myself to look at her for too long. Despite my silence, I knew how to be too rude. 

The silence of the bar pressed for a few moments, and my fingers took the glass, the weight of looks on my back, as I assumed could she. The regulars didn't like the conversation that was being spoken. The red in my cup wasn't a secret; everyone knew. 

"Good evening," I said, soft. The caution was clear. 

My face turned more firmly to her, a black half-mask hiding my face at last. There was a slit for one of my eyes, and the other was free to be seen, and that was it. She didn't react obviously to the porcelain mask, and for that, i was just barely grateful. It was hard to feel anything in my life anymore. She stirred the drink in her glass, and I smelled the tomato. A bloody Mary. How appropriate. I had no idea how to continue, and I continued with a conversation that you shouldn't say the first time you met  a woman. I couldn't help it; I was entirely too rusty on conversation. 

“How young are you?” I asked, suddenly. She didn’t seem to be much older then eighteen, but witches were very tricky to tell. With any good luck, they could live to be thousands of years old. 

“A couple centuries. I’m getting old.” She turned her moss green eyes on me. Our gazes connected, before we both took drinks from our glasses. The connection was entirely too personal, and I knew now that it was too strong to be helped. I didn't want to allow it to grow into anything else, anything more. 

“What are you doing here?” She turned around, to survey the other customers. Her voice was gentle, tinkling like a wind chime. 

“Resting. Relaxing. I’m not sure.”

“Then why aren’t you at a witch salon?”

“Cause I can read their minds. I can't here.” An eyebrow cocked, and my eyes moved to her for a few moments. “Why? Trying to out run the devil?” She had certainly a level of banter, a sarcasm and level of intense ability to understand. _Trying to find it, more like it._

“Something like that.” Something about her was not normal, not quite normal. I couldn't tell what it was that was up her sleeve, what it was that she held, and a breath in, and I could smell the iron of the blades, and in a quick matter of inspection, and i could see an outline of a blade in her sleeve. 

“But what about you? A witch walking into a bar like this should not have knives and curses stocked under your sleeves.” Her green eyes turned silver for a moment, before looking at me with a raised eyebrow, and tight lips. She wasn't expecting directness from a bitter old vampire, nothing like what was provided. Many were much more polite, but after a few centuries, it lost it's allure. A small drink, and I could feel how light my crystal was becoming. 

“Me? Nay, the inquires should be turned to you, now, I think.” 

“And why would that be?” My hand moved to chin for a moment, long digits moving under my lips for just a moment, gently pressing against it. There was a fire in her eyes, and it burned against my skin, hot as if she was trying to start me on fire. 

“Because,” she softly whispered, leaning closer, “Because not every vampire,” The word made me flinch just the slightest, hearing it. When one wasn't that breed, it was like acid on the tongue, and to hear her gentle voice say that was a level of dirt on her voice. "Can use magic. Much less, control the elements." My eyes narrowed just the slightest bit, and the façade she had earlier back, as she leant back. "Oh... You don't know." 

“I do. Everyone does," I replied. That was, everyone could control certain things. 

“Do you know how to control them?” She quickly returned, her currently silver eyes showing more excitement than every should be shown. 

“Yes,” I said, my pride hurt.

"Prove it." Never one to say no to a woman, even as tired of the world as I was, it took a moment for me to concentrate, and manage a small breath of a flame, that of a birthday candle, before I let it go. 

“Any thing else?" I shook my head for a second. "Damn.”

“Is that all, Ms…?” I finally allowed the statement to train into a question, to find out her name.

“…Smith. Jane Smith.” I laughed. If she would be elusive, then so would I. It was clear that she wasn't going to share it. "You?"

“It is nice to meet you, Ms. Smith. You can call me…” I knew what I had to reply with. I remembered the night that Phantom of the Opera had first come out, and I wondered if she would understand the reference. “You can call me Erik.” Needless to say, I hadn’t told her my real name, Tom.

“Hello then, Phantom,” she said, smiling. I laughed quietly. I hadn’t really laughed in years. It seemed she did understand it. “You have a nice l laugh,” she said. “Has anyone ever told you?”

“Yes.” I said shortly. She did not need to know, I reasoned.

“Who?” She asked after a moment.

“Why?” I responded, quickly.

“I was wondering is all.” She peered at me, curiously.

“Well, it doesn’t matter.” The last sip of my drink, and I stood, taking out some money for the fee. 

“Are you leaving, Phantom?”

“Yes."

“How will I reach you?” I smiled and pulled her scarf off, smelling it quickly. Perhaps a little weird to most, but my fangs were out when I smiled. 

“I’ll reach you,” I said, as I walked out.


End file.
